


Amira

by furysgrace



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furysgrace/pseuds/furysgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Julian Bashir's younger sister runs away from home to live aboard Deep Space Nine with her brother, where she develops a close relationship with a certain Cardassian tailor. </p>
<p>Just kind of writing this as I rewatch Deep Space Nine. Open to accepting prompts, but this is mostly just for my own amusement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arriving

Chapter 1: Arriving

Amira adjusted her veil as subtly as possible as she exited the shuttle. The journey from Earth had been a long one. Julian was waiting for her at the airlock, as she’d expected.

They embraced one another tightly before the berating started.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking, running off like that? Mother has contacted me nearly every day asking after you, and Father—”

“Father is the reason I left in the first place, Julian,” Amira told him firmly. Her gaze drifted to a Cardassian man standing a few feet away who was watching their exchange with interest, albeit a little awkwardly. “But I do not want to have this conversation here _or_ now in front of prying ears.”

Julian followed her gaze and grinned. “Ah! Not to worry; this is Mr. Garak, a new friend of mine since arriving aboard the station.” The Cardassian bowed slightly, smiling. “Garak, this is my younger sister, Amira. She’s…visiting.”

“Enchanting to meet you, Miss Bashir.” He took one of her hands in his and kissed the top of it, eyes lingering on hers. Then, he seemed to remember himself and released it. “I own a clothing shop on the station; you should come by if ever you are interested in something more _interesting_ than Starfleet uniforms.”

“Oh, Miri never joined Starfleet,” Julian corrected, his nickname causing Amira to scrunch her nose slightly in annoyance. “She prefers to work with her hands.”

She colored slightly at his choice of phrase. “You could’ve just as easily said that I’m a baker, Jules.” She turned to Garak apologetically. “Sometimes my brother does not think before he speaks.”

“A baker?” Garak echoed, eyes glittering in interest. “Are you to open your own shop, then, and finally give Mr. Quark a run for his money?”

His question seemed to take her by surprise. “I…hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose I could, depending on how long I stay.” She glanced at her brother briefly. “Which is something that Julian and I need to discuss soon. In _private_.”

“Amira—” Julian began to protest, but Garak silenced him with a shake of his head.

“Too right, my dear,” he agreed. “I’ve intruded long enough on your family reunion. Hopefully I will see you both later…for dinner, perhaps? I’d like nothing more than to become better acquainted with the dashing Doctor Bashir’s equally dashing sister.”

“Dinner it is,” Julian decided jovially, as he swept his sister down the Promenade and away from Garak. He was completely oblivious to the rather flirtatious nature of his friend’s words and would remain so for some time.

///

“Tell me more of this Garak character you seem so enamored with.” Amira had been thinking about the Cardassian a lot lately, especially after their dinner with him the first night of her arrival. He’d gone out of his way to be utterly charming and helpful to her.

“Enamored? Me?” Jules repeated, surprised. “Not with Garak; certainly not. Jadzia, on the other hand…”

“I’ve heard enough about the great Jadzia to last a lifetime, thanks to your letters,” Amira interrupted resolutely. “I want to know more of this Cardassian that is possibly a spy from the Obsidian Order. All you ever said was that you’d made an interesting new friend.”

“I don’t know much about him to be honest. Except that he approached me when I first arrived and seems to derive enjoyment from my company.” Julian paused, his brow furrowing. “Why do you want to know?”

“He’s just been…so _nice_ ,” she explained, frowning. “Does he know why I’m here?”

“No, of course not!” Julian exclaimed, angry and shocked that she’d suggested such a thing. “You think I’d betray your trust like that?”

“No, I just…I’m worried there are ulterior motives involved. That’s all.”

Julian’s expression softened. “Miri…I don’t think you have anything to worry about from Mr. Garak. As mysterious as he is, I think he does what he does out of friendship.”

“If you say so…I’m still not sure if I trust him.”


	2. Past Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an argument with her brother leads Amira to spend some time with a certain Cardassian tailor

Amira and Julian were enjoying aperitifs at Quark’s when Garak approached them, looking more nervous than either had ever seen him.

“Plain and simple Garak, how are you today?” Julian greeted cheerfully.

“Being observant, Doctor,” the tailor replied, looking back over his shoulder at something out of sight. The action made Amira nervous herself.

“I’m sure of it,” Julian agreed, as if he were in on some joke.

“There’s a time for levity, my young friend, and a time for genuine concern,” Garak told him soberly, his expression serious. Amira froze at the Cardassian’s tone. “The arrival on this station, for instance, of those two Khon-Ma terrorists.”

“Terrorists?” Julian repeated, and leaned around to get a better look at the individuals Garak was referring to. Amira copied the movement and saw three Bajorans on the second level of the Promenade speaking casually. “What are they doing here?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Garak admitted, sitting down at their table, “but together we might have some success at finding out.”

Looking back and forth between her brother and his Cardassian ally, Amira wasn’t sure whether she was thrilled that there was finally some excitement in her life or whether she thought that both men were out of their minds.

“Garak, I’m a _doctor_ —”

“ _And_ , once you _do_ have the appropriate answer, I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it,” Garak assured him.

Suddenly, Julian remembered that Amira was sitting _right next to him_ and that all this talk of spies and terrorists was not something he was sure he wanted her to hear.

“Um…I think we’d best be getting along now,” he mumbled, dragging Amira to her feet. “Poor Miri’s been suffering from jetlag, so she needs her rest…”

“Uh, _Doctor_ ,” Garak interrupted, standing and placing himself in front of both siblings to prevent their leaving. “I think it’s time for you to take advantage of my shop. If you’ll be there at exactly 2055 hours tonight, I promise to show you a suit that will make you into a new man.”

Poor Julian looked devastatingly clueless. “A…a suit?” he repeated. “We’re talking about terrorists and you want me to buy a new suit?”

“Doctor, am I making myself clear?” Garak asked, eyes wide, as though he were trying to convey a hidden message. “I want you to buy a new suit tonight at 20:55, _exactly_.”

“You’ve made yourself _abundantly clear_ ,” Amira finally piped up, grabbing Julian by the arm and leading him away.

As the two siblings left, Garak could hear the younger berating the comically slow doctor: “Honestly, Jules, you can be _so thick_ sometimes.”

///

“Well? Was it as riveting and perilous as you suspected it would be?”

Julian stared at his sister. She was lounging casually on his couch, a pad in hand, as if she belonged there. How she had gotten into his quarters was beyond him, but mostly his surprise was due to what he’d learned from his meeting with Garak, and what he’d learned from Major Kira and Commander Sisko afterward. Now, it was late, he had a headache, and all he wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed.

“Not nearly, no,” he finally answered, somewhat distracted. “Garak shoved me into a fitting room with a suit and I just listened from there until the Klingons left.”

“ _Klingons_?” Amira repeated, a tinge of envy in her voice. “There were Klingons? I should’ve come along; would’ve been _loads_ better than reading your diary.”

“Absolutely not,” Julian snapped irritably. “I had no idea what I was walking into. For all I knew, they were participating in some kind of criminal activity. You’re not a Starfleet officer; you haven’t had any of the training—”

“Yes, I know, I get it – Miri didn’t join Starfleet, Miri didn’t study medicine, Miri only likes to bake, Miri will never amount to anything like Julian will.” She was suddenly incensed.

“Amira!” Julian exclaimed, though it came out as more of a gasp. “That’s not at all what I was getting at – where is this coming from?”

At once, Amira felt her face flush in embarrassment. She held up the data pad in her hand and shook it waved it in her brother’s face as though she’d caught him red-handed.

“I’m a grown woman, Julian. I can take care of myself,” she spat angrily, tossing the pad at him abruptly. He caught it in surprise, glancing down at its contents briefly before looking back at her guiltily. “The next time you decide to have a ‘chat’ with Mother and Father about my ‘wellbeing,’ don’t bother pretending you’re on my side.”

She brushed past him in a huff, leaving him to stare and stutter at her retreating form.

The pad read as follows:

_From: A. Bashir_  
To: J. Bashir

_Received 10:26  
Re: Miri_

_Julian,_

_I have persuaded your father that you know what’s best for Miri at this point in time. We will not be coming to the station, nor will we send a retainer to retrieve your sister._

_Please keep an eye on her; she’s so very delicate after what happened and I’d hate her to do anything foolhardy because of it._

_We love both of you very much._

_Mother_

_\--------------_

_From: J. Bashir_  
To: A. Bashir

_Received 08:04  
Re: Miri_

_Mother,_

_Do not come to Deep Space Nine for any reason! The Federation has just retaken the station and there are limited accommodations for visitors. Miri will refuse to stay on the station if you come; at this point, I think it far better for her mental, emotional, and physical health that she remain here with me and take some much-needed time away from you and Father. _

_She’s already begun to make a home here for herself – established a routine and possibly even new friendships – my professional opinion is that your arrival on the station would undo any progress she’s made._

_Don’t let Father send a retainer, either. I will not let some hired muscle drag her back to the source of all of this. As far as I’m concerned, she’s far, far away from Earth and it should stay that way._

_ Tell me what Father plans to do BEFORE it happens. _

_Julian._

Julian cursed under his breath. Reading his diary hadn’t been that far off target from what Amira had actually done in his quarters. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of how he should explain himself to his sister. So much for relaxing.

///

Garak’s shop was empty when Julian entered, looking around distractedly.

“Something I can help you with, Doctor?” the Cardassian inquired.

“Have you seen Amira anywhere today?” he asked.

“I’ve hardly left my shop and she hardly seems comfortable enough around me to seek my company of her own volition,” Garak reminded him. “But if I happen to see her, shall I send her your way?”

“No,” Julian grumbled. “Just…tell her I was looking for her.”

“As you wish, my friend.” His gaze stayed on the young Doctor until he had disappeared back into the infirmary further down the Promenade. “He’s gone; you can come out now.”

There was some rustling of fabrics and Amira emerged from one of the changing rooms, dressed in a bright yellow Cardassian dress.

“Thanks for that,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel like talking to him just yet.” She glanced at herself in the mirror. “I don’t think this is my color.”

Garak looked her up and down. “You are absolutely right, my dear. That shade of yellow does not suit you at all.”

Amira was startled by his bluntness. “Erm…thanks?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything before, but since you seem to agree…how about something darker? Burgundy? A nice navy blue? Yes, I think those would do quite nicely…”

He busied himself with some color swatches before showing her the colors he was referring to. “Could I possibly get one of each?”

“My dear, you can have whatever you like,” Garak promised, grinning. When she blushed, a part of him was incredibly pleased that he could still affect a woman that way. It had been a long time. He blinked; now was not the time for such thoughts. No, Amira Bashir needed to get something off of her chest – he could tell by the way she was fidgeting. “Now, perhaps there was another reason you came into my shop? Other than to peruse my wares?”

Sighing, she kept her eyes on the color swatches, avoiding his gaze. “I suppose you want to know what happened.”

“I would gladly lend my ear, if you were so inclined,” the Cardassian admitted, “but you are in no way obligated to do such a thing.”

She was silent for a few moments, considering how much she desired to reveal to someone she barely knew – and trusted even less.

“I ran away from home,” she confessed finally. “I didn’t tell my parents where I was going; I just left.”

“For good reason, I assume,” Garak murmured, but loudly enough for her to hear him.

He sounded like he could sympathize. Amira gazed at him curiously, wondering whether he was merely being patronizing and sympathetic, or whether he truly had cause to understand the need to leave one’s home abruptly.

“Good enough,” she confirmed softly, but offered no other details. The fabric color swatches were suddenly the only things she could stand to look at. “Julian told them I was here. They’ve been _communicating_ about how to deal with me; like I’m some…some misguided youth, or an errant patient who can’t be trusted to make informed decisions.”

Suddenly, Garak understood why Doctor Bashir had looked so distracted and why his sister was so angry with him. She felt _betrayed_ , just as most would upon finding that their family and purported loved ones had been secretly plotting and talking behind their back.

On the other hand, Garak knew that if he were ever in the Doctor’s position, he might act similarly.

“My dear,” he began uncertainly, “have you considered the possibility that your brother merely has your best interests at heart?”

The look that Amira gave him was highly unamused, but was also so pointed that Garak raised both hands to convey mock-surrender.

“They talked about sending a _retainer_ to come and take me back to Earth,” she growled, arms crossing across her ribcage.

“Well, I doubt your brother would stand for _that_ ,” Garak assured her sincerely.

“Oh, he doesn’t.” She smiled wryly. “But he had no problem sharing his ‘professional opinion’ with my mother!”

Ah. There it was.

“It seems to me that what bothers you most is chiefly your brother’s use of professional language regarding your wellbeing and _then_ the fact that he went behind your back,” Garak observed. Amira took a moment to digest his observation and consider it seriously before nodding in agreement. “In that case, I would suggest that you tell him that when he inevitably comes to apologize.”

At his suggestion, the anger faded from Amira’s expression and she looked almost forlorn. She wasn’t sure she could admit to her brother where her anger had come from. It was hard enough that this strange man – Cardassian – that she’d just met had correctly deduced the source of the disagreement after listening to her for a short while.

“He’s not psychic, my dear,” the Cardassian added, upon perceiving her hesitance to face her brother.

Then she nodded. The tailor was right. She couldn’t expect Julian to understand why his words had bothered her so much unless she explained it to him. Given everything that he’d done for her since she’d fled Earth, didn’t she at least owe him an explanation?

Crossing the room silently, she laid a hand on the tailor’s forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for being honest. And listening.”

One of his hands covered hers on his arm and squeezed back. “Whatever you need, my dear.”

And he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 新年快乐 (Happy Chinese New Year) to those who celebrate. It's year of the Ram, which is my dad's year. Last year was Year of the Horse - my year - and it fucking sucked balls except for the whole I-Got-Into-Grad-School thing. Here's hoping my dad has tons of luck and some of it rubs off on me.
> 
> at this point i'm basically just writing little blurbs for this story if an idea strikes me during a particular episode. soooo if you have an idea or want something to happen, my message box is literally just sitting there waiting for prompts. :)


	3. Babel

Babel

Some time passed before Garak had the pleasure of seeing Amira again. She came into his shop near a week later to check on the status of a clothing order. Said order had grown considerably since the day she’d started hiding from her brother, mostly because she was tired of wearing the plain civilian attire she’d brought from Earth.

The Promenade was strangely empty that day; there was word that repairs around the station had fallen behind and there were issues with the replicators all over the station. Amira wasn’t particularly concerned; she’d been making her own food lately. Her diet over the last week had consisted mainly of bread and pasta – both made from scratch – with fruits and vegetables that she was growing in her quarters.

At the moment, she was greatly surprised that Garak’s shop was closed so early in the day.

“Miss Bashir?”

Amira spun in surprise to find Garak directly behind her.

“Garak,” she greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same question, my dear.” At her apparent confusion, he continued. “Haven’t you heard? The entire station is on quarantine.”

“Quarantine?” she repeated. “What? How?”

Garak appraised her, a strange look on his face.  When was the last time she'd been outside of her quarters? She looked sheepish as he continued to gaze down at her. “There is a virus on the station. Last I heard, it was being spread through the replicators. How on _earth_ have you not heard?”

“I may have been cooped up in my quarters for the past week,” she admitted, her cheeks turning slightly pink at the confession.

“Doing what, if I might ask?”

“Gardening, reading, sleeping,” she replied. “I didn’t feel up to socializing.”

“Ah, still avoiding the Doctor, I see.”

“Maybe,” she acknowledged, “but if I’d known there was a virus, I’d have come out earlier. Is Julian sick? Have you seen him?”

“Relax, my dear,” Garak soothed, his voice comforting. “I saw the good doctor just this morning. He’s fine.”

Amira’s eyes widened as she realized something else. “What about you? Have you eaten from the replicators, Mr. Garak?”

“Please, my dear, just Garak. Or Elim, if you desire, but certainly not ‘mister’ anything.” He sighed. “Alas, much of my diet comes from the replicator in my quarters. Why do you ask?”

“Because I grow my own food in my quarters!” Amira told him excitedly. “I haven’t eaten anything from the replicators since I arrived. Perhaps if you and Julian only eat food I give you until this is over, you will not get sick!”

So excited by her plan, Amira took Garak by the hand and led him toward the infirmary, overjoyed to tell her brother the good news.

“Julian!”

The doctor spun around in his chair in surprise. When he saw his sister, he felt a shock of guilt that he hadn’t gone out of his way to make sure she was okay. With the virus and the patients’ conditions worsening, he’d barely had any time to even think about his own needs, let alone hers.

“Amira! Garak! Are you all right? Is one of you displaying symptoms?”

“Relax, my friend, we are both in good health,” the Cardassian assured him. “Though, your sister might be in the best health of us all. Apparently she’s been eating food that she grew herself.”

“I thought if you and Garak ate the food that I grow in my quarters, then maybe you wouldn't get sick like everyone else!” she exclaimed and Julian’s heart sank. Neither of them knew that the virus had become airborne. 

Julian didn’t seem surprised by her idea, but he also wasn't as excited as Amira had expected him to be. He sighed. “Under normal circumstances, I would applaud your idea, Miri, but it’s not that simple; not anymore.”

Amira’s smiled faded. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the virus has affected more than sixty percent of the station’s population and it’s highly adaptable. You might have been safe before, but you certainly aren’t now that it’s gone airborne.”

The excitement rushed out of her all at once. She sat down heavily in a chair, shocked by the news. “Oh.”

“But Major Kira’s working on finding a link to the creator,” he told her hurriedly, as if trying to make up for upsetting her. “I hear she’s gloat sunny day.”

Amira frowned, unsure whether she’d heard Julian correctly. “She’s what?”

“Mouse bed gliding?”

“My dear,” Garak began gently, resting a supportive hand on her arm, “this is the virus. It appears to have finally caught up with dear Doctor Bashir.”

///

Word spread around the station quickly. Chief O’Brien, the first victim of the virus, had gotten worse. They had less than half a day to find a cure before people started dying. Garak had insisted on escorting Amira back to her quarters after her brother fell ill and since then had taken advantage of her offer of home-grown food.

“What do you call this?” he asked, scooping some orange sauce up with a piece of flatbread.

“Masala,” she replied, as she flattened out another glob of dough on her countertop. “And the bread is naan, though I prefer paratha.”

“I don’t know what paratha is, but I very much like the masala and naan.” He watched her from the table as she continued to work. “Are you going to continue to work yourself to death, or are you going to actually entertain your guest instead of ignore him?”

She looked at him in surprise over her shoulder, fearing that she’d offended him by continuing to bake and cook while he sat alone at her table and ate. Eyes widened and brows down-turned, she looked as though he’d just accused her murder or something equally heinous. But then she saw the amused smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes, and she realized that this was his roundabout way of trying to distract her.

Rolling her eyes at his words, she set her rolling pin aside. “Please,” she scoffed, “as if you have nothing better to do. Shouldn’t you be off sewing something?”

“I don’t spend _all_ of my time sewing, my dear,” he said, with mock offense. “I have hobbies.”

“You mean espionage and other such spy work?” At his expression – one of true surprise, mild offense, and a tiny bit of hurt – she laughed. “Relax, Garak, I’ve heard all the rumors.”

Garak looked slightly perturbed by the nonchalance with which she addressed the rumors about him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, my dear. I am but a simple tailor.”

A rather unladylike snort came from Amira. “Please. And I’m battle kneading the lamp.”

Suddenly all the mischief was gone from his eyes and she knew something was wrong. He stilled. “Amira?” He said her name slowly, as if talking to a small child.

“Blackest night fights the dough!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror.

“My dear, I think we had better take you to the infirmary,” Garak suggested cautiously. It pained him to see her like this. Though he’d barely known her for more than a week, the fear in her eyes was something he doubted he’d ever forget.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, he found Doctor Bashir with Major Kira, Commander Sisko, and a Bajoran.

“Mr. Garak,” Sisko greeted. “Miss Bashir.”

“Power fishing up a creek,” Amira muttered, sighing.

“ _Gods_ , Amira,” Julian exclaimed. He rushed forward and pressed an injector to her neck. “That should kick in soon enough. Garak, you’ll want one as well. It's the vaccine.”

He stepped forward and pressed the injector to Garak’s neck. Behind him, Amira suddenly collapsed to the ground, causing Julian to spin toward her in shock. “Amira!” By the time he reached her, she was already stirring, eyes blinking blearily. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you; the vaccine has had this effect on some. It can be jarring.”

When she opened her eyes fully, she was surprised to see raw concern in Garak’s eyes as he stared down at her from behind Julian.

“Do you think you can stand?” Julian’s voice drew her attention away from Garak’s rather intense stare. Nodding shakily, she allowed her brother to help her to her feet.

Her knees gave out a second time and this time Commander Sisko was at her side. “Miss Bashir?”

“Miri, how are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” she sighed, leaning heavily on the Commander. She missed the sudden relief that passed over Garak’s visage upon hearing her speak normally.

“I’ve got to get the vaccine to the others,” Julian murmured. “Garak, could you…?”

“Of course, Doctor,” Garak said, nodding in assurance. He offered his arm to Amira. “Miss Bashir?”

Amira took his arm gratefully and allowed him to lead her to the nearest lift. “How are you _really_ feeling, my dear?” he asked as the lift transported them to the habitat ring.

“Are you suggesting I lied to my brother?” she asked lightly. The lift doors opened and Garak led her out, heading down the corridor toward her quarters.

“Not at all, my dear,” Garak assured. “I merely suspected that perhaps you weren’t one hundred percent honest with your dear brother.”

She glanced at him before entering the security code to her quarters. “Was it that obvious?”

“He didn’t seem to notice,” Garak admitted, “and I _am_ rather observant, if I do say so myself.”

The door to her quarters slid open and she stepped inside, careful not to trip over her own feet. She allowed herself to collapse on her bed as soon as she was near enough. Garak hovered in the doorway between her bedroom and living room, not sure if he was welcome in such a personal space. But her eyes were already drifting shut as she called out for him from the comfort of her bed.

“Can you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked, her voice wispy from weariness.

“Of course, my dear.” He sat down in an armchair next to her bed and watched as her eyes drifted shut. After a few moments, her breathing evened out and he knew she was asleep.

Garak sighed as he allowed himself to stare at her and cursed inwardly as he realized that he was beginning to develop a weakness for the doctor’s sister. She was both unthreatening and enthralling to him; the more time he spent with her, the weaker his resistance was.

Julian Bashir might just murder him when he found out.


	4. The Passenger

The Passenger

Garak had not seen Amira for a few weeks. Truth be told, he was avoiding her now that he had admitted – at least to himself – that his feelings had become more than platonic. Part of him feared that she would be used against him should his feelings become public. Another part of him was terrified about the prospect of even acknowledging his feelings out loud. As much as he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her constantly. It took all of his self-restraint to stay away.

So when he saw her leaving the infirmary in tears, he was torn between going after her and going into the infirmary to demand an explanation from her brother. At that moment, however, a particularly affluent customer entered his shop, eager to purchase an entirely new wardrobe. He sighed, telling himself that he would simply have to check on Amira later, after the shop had closed.

///

Amira could not comprehend what had gotten into her brother. She had gone to visit him in the infirmary, bringing with her a selection of his favorite foods all made from food she grew or made in her quarters. Instead of catching up, however, he was acting peculiarly cruel and out of character. His words had been cutting and almost threatening. It was the last thing she had expected from her protective older brother, which made it hurt all the more. She’d been unable to hold back the tears as she hurried from the infirmary, lunchbox abandoned on her brother’s desk.

It had been a few hours since then and it was Tuesday, which meant she was due to dine with her brother at Quark’s with Garak. It would be the first time she’d seen the Cardassian in a few weeks, and she had already been nervous, but Julian had assured her that she had nothing to be nervous about. But since the fight with him earlier, Amira was unsure of what to expect.

As she headed into the infirmary hesitantly, she saw that the nurses had all gone home for the day. “Julian?” she called.

“What?”

She let out a startled cry as he appeared directly behind her. His voice still had the biting edge to it, making her wonder if she should have come at all. Julian didn't often brood, but when he did it was best to leave him alone.

“It’s Tuesday.” She paused, hoping he remembered. When it was clear that he didn’t, she continued. “We have dinner at Quark’s with Garak, remember?”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” he said, his voice suddenly increased in pitch. He suddenly sounded far too indulgent compared to when she'd entered the infirmary just a moment ago. The change was a wide swing that left Amira rather confused. Julian motioned to the back of the infirmary. “Give me a moment to finish something?”

Nodding, she watched him disappear into the back silently. She would ask him at dinner why he’d been so cruel and out of character all day.

Unfortunately, she wouldn’t get a chance to do that. The sound of footsteps approaching from behind had her turning just in time to see her brother, armed with an injector, approaching. She tried to move away, but he quickly pressed the injector into her neck and smiled callously as she crumpled to the ground.

“Sorry, sister,” he sneered. “Couldn’t have you getting in the way of my plans.”

///

Garak was starting to worry. Tonight he was supposed to meet Julian and Amira for dinner at Quark’s, but it had been thirty minutes since their scheduled meeting and neither had shown up. To make matters worse, when Garak had inquired with Quark whether or not he’d seen either of the Bashir siblings, the Ferengi had immediately seemed flustered.

Finally, he decided to check the infirmary. Maybe they’d lost track of time. Perhaps they were discussing Amira’s reason for leaving the infirmary earlier that day in tears. But as he entered the infirmary, he found it strangely empty.

“Doctor Bashir?” he called. “Amira?”

“Mr. Garak,” a voice greeted behind him, surprise clear in their voice. Lieutenant Dax had arrived.

“Lieutenant Dax.” He returned the greeting. “I was supposed to have dinner with Doctor Bashir and his sister this evening, but I cannot seem to locate them anywhere. Perhaps you happen to know where they are?”

Frowning, Jadzia gave the infirmary a perfunctory search. “Computer, locate Doctor Bashir.”

“Doctor Bashir is in the infirmary,” the computer replied.

“That can’t be right,” Garak murmured, looking around. “Computer, locate Amira Bashir.”

Behind him, Jadzia had already noticed a com badge on Julian’s desk. “Amira Bashir is in the infirmary.”

“He’s not here,” Jadzia said, holding up the badge. A sinking feeling gathered in the pit of Garak’s stomach. He’d heard about the kidnapping attempt of Lieutenant Dax that had occurred weeks ago – how the perpetrators had appeared from nowhere and just taken her. The only reason they’d been caught was because of Doctor Bashir’s timely interference. What if the same thing had happened to the Bashir siblings?

So caught up in his thoughts, Garak didn’t notice that Jadzia had disappeared into the back of the infirmary until he heard her calling for him. He hurried into the back and saw Jadzia kneeling over a body, tricorder out and scanning. It was Amira.

“She’s alive,” the Lieutenant assured him as he knelt next to her, “just heavily sedated. I’d guess she never saw it coming.”

“If she’s here, then where is the Doctor?” Garak wondered. It was clear that Amira had been dragged into the back of the infirmary haphazardly and dumped in the first corner that her assailant could find. It filled him with anger that someone would be so cavalier about her safety. He brushed the hair out of her face as gently as he could.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Dax muttered. She tapped her com badge. “Dax to all medical personnel: I need a response team in the infirmary as soon as possible.” Standing to her feet, she frowned at Garak. “You’ll stay with her?”

“Of course,” he assured her. “Go, Lieutenant. Find the Doctor.”

She gave the Cardassian a curt nod, glanced between the two briefly, and left.

///

When Amira began to regain consciousness, her first reaction was to fight back, but something, or rather, some _one_ was preventing her from doing that.

“Her pulse is spiking—”

“I can _see_ that, Nurse,” a familiar voice practically growled. Someone was touching her face – holding it, gently. “Amira, can you hear me? You’re in the infirmary, you’re safe.”

She was having trouble breathing still – or, rather, couldn’t stop breathing so quickly.

“We can give her another sedative, or something to calm her—”

“ _No_ ,” the familiar voice rebuffed loudly. “No more drugs. She’s had enough today.” The hands holding her face were soft, gentle. “It’s just Garak. You’re safe. Open your eyes, Miri.”

That seemed to work, and she began to calm down. One of her hands came up to cover one of Garak’s. Her eyes fluttered open a few moments later when she felt safe and brave enough. She was indeed in the infirmary. Garak was standing over her, a nurse by her side. Jules was nowhere to be seen.

“Julian—” She moved to sit up and leave the bed she was on, but at once Garak and the nurse attempted to prevent her from doing so. Frustrated at her inability to do anything useful, she huffed, returning to horizontal position on the bed. “Something’s wrong with Julian,” she told Garak desperately. “I have to help him.”

“Believe me, my dear, as much as I would like to let you, I cannot.”

“Doctor Bashir used a powerful sedative on you, Miss Bashir,” the nurse told her. “You’re going to feel lightheaded and dizzy for a little while, so I’d suggest rest.”

“But I’ve just _been_ resting!” Amira exclaimed, annoyed.

The nurse looked skeptical, but, after glancing at Garak, sighed. “I can release you into Mr. Garak’s care, if you like.”

At once, Amira nodded eagerly, looking to Garak with a pleading expression. “Please, Garak.”

“Oh, very well,” he agreed, after barely two seconds of thought.

“But she is not to participate in _any_ strenuous activity for the rest of the day. If the dizziness persists longer than that, come back to the infirmary. Understood?”

“Absolutely.”

At his acknowledgement, the nurse turned and left to tend to work in the back of the infirmary, leaving Garak alone with Amira. When he turned back to her, she was already sitting up and moving to slide off the bed. As he suspected, her knees buckled beneath her as soon as she was upright and he found himself hurrying toward her side.

“ _Miss Bashir_ ,” Garak chided, his tone scolding her, but also playful. He’d snaked an arm around her waist to keep her upright while she clung to the front of his tunic as the dizzy spell passed. “Perhaps it would be best if you practiced the same patience your brother often exhibits.”

“Oh,” she gasped, sounding winded and breathless from the exertion.

If nearly collapsing hadn’t made up his mind, the fact that she was winded from standing up certainly made the decision for him. Garak bent slightly and slipped his other arm under her knees, effectively scooping her up into his arms. She was so disoriented that she didn’t even argue as he carried her through the promenade and into the nearest lift.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly, once the lift doors had shut.

“I’m taking you to your quarters, my dear,” he replied.

“Oh. Okay.” She was silent for a few moments. The lift came to a stop and the doors opened. She didn’t speak again until he started carrying her down the corridor. “I like it when you call me ‘dear.’”

He nearly choked when she said that, but somehow managed to maintain his composure. “Is that so?” he queried as innocently as possible.

“Yes,” she told him. “I know you call a lot of people ‘dear,’ but it still makes me feel like you care.”

 _Had the sedative affected her inhibitions?_ Garak didn’t think it was likely. So why was she suddenly so confessional? He remembered her security code for her quarters and keyed it in, hoping she hadn’t changed it since the last time he’d escorted her home. Thankfully she hadn’t, and the door slid open.

“And what makes you think I don’t actually care?” _He was going to hell for this._

“I don’t know,” she sighed.

“For what it’s worth, I do care.” _Fuck. Why had he said that out loud?_

“Okay.”

He laid her on the bed carefully, and tucked her in. As he turned to leave, she reached out and caught his hand with her own. “Will you stay?”

“Of course.”

///

“What are _you_ doing here?” Doctor Bashir could not keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Making sure your sister is kept out of harm’s way – a task which you, by the way, utterly _failed_ at.” Garak could not keep the sneer out of his voice. A friend of the doctor’s he may be, but the man had been callous and cruel to Amira, something he now found he could not abide.

“In case you haven’t heard, I was _possessed by an alien sociopath!”_

Garak scoffed. “As if that excuses the things you did to her. Do you have _any_ idea what you _put_ your sister through?”

“No, because I was _possessed by an alien murderer!_ ”

“ _What_ is going on out here?”

The conversation stopped abruptly and both men turned to see Amira leaning against the now open doorway to her bedroom.

“Miri,” Julian murmured, looking relieved to see her. He crossed the room in long strides. “Miri, whatever I did, I’m _so sorry_.”

As he advanced, Amira pushed herself away from the door, stumbling slightly as she moved to get away from him. Both men moved to catch her if she fell, but she managed to stabilize herself against a bookshelf. Julian’s expression turned to sorrowful and worried. _What had he done_?

“It’s alright, Amira,” Garak promised her, crossing the room slowly. “Your brother has been cured of his momentary lapse in brain functions.”

Julian rolled his eyes at the Cardassian’s choice of words. “I was possessed by an alien sociopath. Please believe that I didn’t mean anything I said or did.”

It took her a moment to process what he had said. But, as he watched her, she finally nodded after a few prolonged moments.

“Okay,” she finally said. “But I…I need time…and space, Julian.”

He looked crestfallen at her words, but nodded in agreement. “Very well. Take all the time you need.” He turned to leave.

“I’m sorry, Jules,” she murmured quietly.

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” he insisted, and then left her alone with Garak.

///

Days passed before Amira approached her brother. True to his word, he had stayed away and given her the time and space she needed. After a few days had gone by, Garak saw her stride into the infirmary resolutely and exit less than half an hour later, eyes tearless. Indeed, it was a relief that their reunion had gone well. He was surprised when Amira appeared in his shop, carrying a small basket.

“Miss Bashir,” he greeted cheerfully, “what brings you into my humble shop today?”

“Please, Garak, call me Amira or Miri, but don’t call me ‘Miss’ anything. It makes me feel old.”

“As you wish, my dear,” he promised, bowing his head slightly. He noticed a slight blush on her cheeks when he said that, and remembered when she’d confessed how much she liked when he called her that.

A wide smile had spread over her face since and she seemed to forget that he had asked her a question. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and blushed even more. “I wanted to thank you for helping me so much last week, so I baked you some treats.”

He took the proffered basket, unable to hide his surprise. “Oh. I promise you had no obligation to do such a thing, my dear. I helped because I wanted to.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, shrugging. “Besides, I was already baking apology cookies for Julian. I figured I’d make something for you at the same time. I bet it’s been a long time since you had home-cooked Cardassian goodies.”

Garak was truly touched by the gesture. He looked down at the basket and, opening it, saw an assortment of treats one would find in a bakery on Cardassia – chocolates, muffins, cookies, and various other desserts that humans had no word for. Somehow Amira had fit an entire sampling of baked goods into one small basket. He hadn’t had some of these desserts since he’d been a small boy.

“My dear…” he breathed, suddenly aware of how much time and effort she must have put into the production of such a gift. He began again. “I haven’t had Cardassian chocolates for _years_. Truly… _truly_ , you have outdone yourself, Amira.”

If possible, her smile widened even more, accompanied by a crimson blush. “I’m glad you like them, Garak. Will I see you for dinner on Tuesday with Julian?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, my dear.”

The blush widened. “I’ll leave you to your work, then. Have a good day, Garak!”

As he watched her go, his mind was wild with ideas for how he could repay her. Flowers, dresses, jewelry, food – and then he bit into one of the Cardassian truffles and his eyes widened. _The most exquisite flowers, dresses, and jewelry_ , he decided, for not only had she spent time tracking down Cardassian dessert recipes, but they were the most delicious he’d ever tasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone! I spent most of the past few months traveling and next month I'm moving across the country. 
> 
> As always, if you have any prompts or something specific you'd like to see, please let me know.


	5. If Wishes Were Horses

_If Wishes Were Horses_

Weeks went by. Amira busied herself with baking for her newfound friends – Garak, Commander Sisko, Lieutenant Dax, Major Kira, and Chief O’Brien. She tried to offer something to Odo, but he insisted that he didn’t eat. Or drink. Or sleep, really. And, well, Julian didn’t count as a _friend_ , but he ate all her food anyway. Sometimes, she’d even take goodies to Quark, if he was being especially nice. Also, he tended to let her use the holosuite for free if she brought his favorite treats.

But even with all the baking she was doing, Amira consistently found herself bored and with extra time on her hands. She’d made a few inquiries around the promenade, to see if there were any open retail areas in which she could open a station bakery, but she had yet to hear back from anyone.

To occupy herself further, she’d decided to try as many holosuite programs as she could at Quark’s – except for the sexual ones; she avoided those like the plague. Sometimes she’d invite someone along with her: Julian, Jadzia, Odo. Lately, however, the only one who’d had the time was Garak.

Today, they were rock climbing. Garak had been grumbling about it for the last half hour. He wasn’t dressed right for the occasion; why hadn’t she _told_ him it was rock climbing? Of course, he couldn’t complain about the view. She’d promised to lead the way so he’d know where to climb next, so every time he looked up he had a view of her rear. His cheeks flamed in embarrassment whenever he caught himself staring, and a part of him chastised himself internally for acting like a dirty old man around the doctor’s younger sister (with a stern emphasis on the ‘younger’).

And then above him, Amira screamed and lost her grip on the rocks, immediately falling past him, down at least six feet. She landed on what appeared to be thin air, crying out in pain, but as soon as she landed, the program dissipated and they were back in the holosuite, with the computer calling for medical help.

It had happened so fast that Garak was slightly confused about what had happened, but he was present enough to go to her side and assess the damage. She was cradling her left arm gingerly, holding it stiffly, her face etched with pain. His heart lurched to see her in such a manner. The door chimed and Quark’s voice came through the intercom.

“Everything okay in there?” he asked. “The emergency sensor went off.”

“We need medical assistance,” Garak called. He glanced down at Amira, uncertain at what she had injured exactly.

"It's my wrist," she murmured, her brow furrowed and teeth clenched tightly. 

The door slid open a few moments later and Julian rushed in with Quark.

“What happened?” Julian demanded, tricorder out and scanning both of them.

“We were rock climbing and she fell,” Garak explained.

“I reached for the next rock and there was a snake,” Amira murmured. She hissed as Julian brushed over her injured wrist. “I lost my grip.”

“Isn’t the safety supposed to be on for every session?” Julian growled, turning to Quark.

The Ferengi held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “The safety _is_ on. The program must have an error in it; I’ll have to run a diagnostic.”

“Make sure that you do,” Julian ordered. He turned to his sister. “Amira, I can’t do anything about this unless we go back to the infirmary. Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

Quark’s expression was truly – and surprisingly – apologetic. “Amira, I _promise_ this was just an accident. You can have the next two visits on the house, okay?”

“Thanks, Quark. I appreciate it,” she murmured, as Julian pulled her to her feet with her good arm. One of his arms snaked around her waist and the other steadied her in case the pain should cause any dizziness. Without another word, Amira let her brother lead her and Garak to the infirmary.

Once there, the doctor ran a few more scans on her arms before declaring that her left wrist was fractured and she would need to wear a brace for awhile before she could use it normally.

“But my baking…” she protested weakly.

“It’ll just be a little harder for a few weeks,” Julian promised her. “Besides, that’ll give the senior staff some time to work off all the extra calories we’ve been ingesting thanks to you.”

Amira and Garak left the infirmary soon after, allowing Julian to continue the work he had abandoned to help her.

“If you find yourself in need of an extra pair of hands for baking, I’m more than willing to let you borrow mine until yours are back in working order,” Garak offered, as they walked the promenade. “I may not be a baker, but being a tailor requires steady hands.”

“Be careful what you offer, Garak,” Amira teased. “I might take you up on your offer and then you’d never rid yourself of me.”

Soon, Amira excused herself to freshen up from their holosuite excursion, promising to return to Garak’s shop after, since she would likely have nothing else to do. She had taken to spending hours in his shop, watching him work, talking with him, and helping where she could. In return, he told her stories and often walked her to her quarters. It occurred to him rather belatedly that he was well and truly mired, now. He had long since passed the point at which he might have divested himself of any fondness he held for the young woman. He’d let the attachment continue for too long. He was nearly certain he might have  _feelings_ for her now, and the Cardassian had no idea how to proceed.

When Amira had refreshed herself and changed, she headed back down to the promenade. As she stepped out of the lift, Odo stormed by with two of his security personnel, calling for all to clear the way as they shepherded what looked like two huge emus down the walkway. The sight literally stopped her in her tracks as she blinked and looked back over her shoulder, unsure of whether or not she'd imagined the scene. 

She wandered into Garak’s shop looking and feeling utterly confused. “There are two large birds on the promenade.”

“Yes,” Garak said. Clearly, he’d seen them already. “And about ten minutes ago, it was snowing.”

Amira blinked at him. “…What?”

“White powder. Cold, wet stuff. Snow.”

“…How?”

Garak almost wanted to laugh at her monosyllabic responses. It was like the oddities on the promenade had shut down her higher brain functions, but only in the most comedic of ways. 

“Apparently, there’s some kind of subspace anomaly that is quite literally bringing our imaginations to life,” Garak explained wryly. He seemed unamused by the whole thing.

“So…someone was imagining two large birds running about the promenade?”

“It makes as much sense to you as it does me, my dear,” he admitted. “Tell me, have you had any particular figments of your imagination suddenly come to life today?”

“Well…I _was_ thinking about snakes when that snake appeared earlier in the holosuite,” she remembered. “And I have a terrible fear of snakes.”

“It will comfort you to know, then, that there are no snakes on Cardassia.”

Amira laughed. “Unless we are going to Cardassia soon, that’s not the most comforting of facts.”

He shrugged. “Ah, well, I tried.”

Suddenly a tremor shook the entirety of the station. The lights on the Promenade darkened save for blinking red lights and a loud alarm blared throughout the sound system. Amira looked around. “What’s going on?”

“Red alert,” Garak clarified. His hand rested on her lower back and he guided her to the back of the shop. “Quickly, my dear. We can take cover in the back room.”

They barely made it into the back room when the entire station shook again, this time with enough force to send things toppling off shelves. Garak shoved Amira under one of the work benches just as a shelf tumbled toward them. When the trembling finally ceased, Amira realized she was alone beneath the work bench.

“Garak!” she cried, looking around wildly. Had the shelf toppled onto him? What if he was trapped or hurt?

When there was no reply, a thought occurred to her: had he been a figment of her imagination the whole day? Was the real Garak in his quarters, relaxing? Had she imagined everything?

“No, no, no,” she mumbled. “It was real; I know it was!”

Then she saw it: a huge black snake, slithering toward her. She scrambled out from beneath the workbench and began to back away into the main lobby of Garak’s shop, shutting the door behind her so that the snake could not follow. She breathed a sigh of relief as the door slid shut, and then turned to face the rest of the shop – only to find even more slithering, legless creatures waiting for her. They all seemed to notice her at once, coiling into attack positions, their tongues tasting the air, tasting her fear –

Behind her the door slid open and she turned slowly, only to see the monstrous beast lunging at her, a black blur ready to tackle her to the ground. She screamed, arms flying up in front of her as she dropped to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible.

But nothing came. Instead, the lights came back up and suddenly a voice was calming her, soothing her, and a pair of hands had pulled her into a warm embraced. When she finally opened her eyes, Garak was holding her, rubbing circles softly on her back, and whispering to her quietly. She allowed herself to enjoy the contact for a few more moments before pulling away.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, eyes searching hers.

“Snakes,” she gasped shakily, her breath still coming in shuddering gasps as she fought to regain control over her lungs. “Huge ones. Everywhere.”

Garak hadn’t realized her fear was so real, so raw. There were few things he feared, but he was rarely forced to confront them in such a violent way. He looked around, taking in the mess that was his shop. He could clean it later, he decided. Standing, he pulled Amira to her feet. The station had finally gone back to yellow alert.

“How do you feel about drinks at Quark’s?” he asked. “I think you could use a few.”

She nodded quickly. Alcohol would definitely help. She let him lead the way, cheered somewhat by the fact that, as he led her, his hand remained on the small of her back like an anchor.


	6. Duet

Duet

“Did you hear? A Cardassian was murdered on the promenade today.”

Amira froze, staring after the two women as they passed her in the habitat ring. Her heartbeat accelerated. There was only one Cardassian on the station. _Garak_. _No._

She all but ran to the promenade and into Garak’s empty shop, calling his name frantically. “Garak!”

He emerged from the back of the shop, eyes wide with concern and confusion. “Amira? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Seeing him was such a relief that all the adrenaline rushed out of her at once and suddenly she felt exhausted. In a move surprising Garak, she flung her arms around him in a desperate embrace, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“What…” he trailed off as he returned the embrace, shocked by Amira’s sudden emotional state. After what seemed like half an hour, but was more likely just a few minutes, she seemed to calm down and her tears subsided. Curious passersby were starting to gather around the entrance of his shop, wondering what on earth the human and the Cardassian were doing so publicly.

It seemed more prudent to finish the discussion in the back room now that they had drawn a crowd. Garak fetched a glass of water for her before sitting down next to Amira, facing her.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Someone said you’d been killed,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Me? Specifically?” Garak repeated, surprised. He took one of her hands in his own and put it over his chest so that she could feel the steady beat of his heart. “In case you haven’t noticed, my dear, I am very much alive.”

She could only nod to show that she believed him. “They didn’t say you specifically,” she admitted after a few moments. “They just said a Cardassian had been murdered.”

“And as the only Cardassian aboard the station, you assumed it was me.”

Amira nodded again. “I feel a little foolish, now,” she murmured, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Nonsense.” Garak tipped her chin up with one of his hands so that he could meet her gaze. “My dear, I am flattered that you were so concerned for my wellbeing.”

“You’re one of my closest friends on the station, Garak. I don’t know what I would’ve done, if…” She trailed off, shuddering visibly as she considered what might have happened.

“None of that.” Garak stood, pulling Amira to her feet with him. He eyed the brace on her wrist. “I think I feel like learning how to bake some of that delicious naan bread you’re so fond of. What do you say, hmm?”

She recognized exactly what the Cardassian tailor was doing, of course. He wanted to distract her, to make her forget the fear she’d felt for him. She smiled, and though it didn’t reach her eyes, he was pleased by her attempt.

“It’s a very easy bread to make, Garak,” she told him. “You’ll master it in no time at all.”

Sometime later, when the dough had been mixed and rolled and put into the oven to bake, Amira found herself relaxing on her couch with Garak and a cup of tea.

“Thank you for this,” Amira murmured, sipping her tea.

“For what, my dear?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, Garak. You had no more desire to learn how to make naan than I do to study medicine with Julian.” She gave him a knowing look. “You merely suggested it to distract me from what happened earlier.”

“Perhaps,” Garak agreed, though his tone of voice suggested she wasn’t completely correct. “Or perhaps I just cannot bear seeing such pretty eyes filled with tears.”

Amira nearly choked on her tea and Garak had the audacity to look amused by it. Once she’d set her tea aside and regained her composure, she swatted the Cardassian lightly on the arm as his amusement turned to a bark of laughter.

“Next time, wait until I’m not in the middle of drinking when you say something like that,” she muttered, “unless of course you _want_ to be wearing my drink.”

“Are you inviting me to make such compliments in the future?” Garak asked, still entertained by her reaction. He watched as she blushed brightly.

“Yes – No! I mean…I…”

Garak laughed again, but this time softly. His eyes were still gleaming with amusement. “Humans are such interesting creatures,” he mused. “Did you know that when Cardassians blush, our skin only darkens slightly? Humans, however…” he trailed off as he brought the back of his hand to brush against her cheek. “So many different colors.”

Amira wasn’t sure how to take his observations. There was something about him that seemed unguarded and free as he gazed at her.

A shaky “Thank you?” was somehow the only thing she could think of saying.

Suddenly his entire demeanor was different and the walls were back up. Garak’s smile brightened. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”


	7. Armageddon Game

It seemed like a normal day. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. There was no inkling or hint that anything would go wrong.

Julian and Chief O’Brien were on some alien planet far away for a mission. Something to do with helping two races establish peace by destroying all their biological weapons. Julian had assured her it was completely safe. They’d been gone for three days when it happened. It was Tuesday, the night that Amira, Julian, and Garak usually dined together. Since Julian was on a mission, however, Amira had invited Garak to dine in her quarters.

There was nothing particularly special or telling about the evening. They sipped Cardassian wine, ate smoked salmon (it was Garak’s second time eating the Earth breed of fish), and then turned on an old Earth film from the early twenty-first century.

Halfway through the film, right when the heroes looked to be in a serious pickle, Amira’s doorbell chimed. Frowning lightly, she paused the film and tried to remember if she’d forgotten about some appointment she’d set.

“Come in,” she called.

The door slid open and Commander Sisko entered.

“Commander Sisko,” she greeted, surprised, standing. “Did we have a meeting that I forgot about?”

“Not at all,” Sisko assured her, but his expression was somber and did nothing to reassure her. He gestured back to the couch. “You might want to sit down.”

“Okay…” She obeyed and sat down next to Garak, who by now was unsure of whether or not he should stay.

Sisko seemed to wonder the same thing as he glanced between the Cardassian and Amira uncertainly. “I’m afraid my reasons for visiting you are more of a personal nature, Miss Bashir.”

“What about?” Amira asked. “As you might be aware, Garak is a friend of the family, so to speak. He can stay. If he wants.”

“Very well,” Sisko agreed. He inhaled deeply, slowly. “It’s concerning your brother.”

Next to Garak, Amira stilled. He couldn’t even tell if she was still breathing.

“I’m afraid there was an accident.”

“No.” It came out as a whisper, but both men could hear it plainly.

“It appears Chief O’Brien inadvertently tripped some kind of security measure during their mission and was unable to stop it in time.”

As he spoke, Amira had begun shaking her head, unable to believe what he was telling her. _Julian and Chief O’Brien…dead? It couldn’t be true. Jules had promised it was a safe mission; she hadn’t even said goodbye and now…now…now what?_

“Miss Bashir?”

She vaguely heard someone saying her name. A deep voice. Serious and somber.

“Amira.” A different voice, this one closer to her. Familiar. Soothing.

“I’m sorry…” she murmured, her voice sounding far away and distant from her body. “I need…”

 _I need to lie down_ … _I need to wake up…_

If only she could find her bed…then, maybe she’d wake up and this would all be a dream…

She struggled to stand; each time it seemed like something was pulling her back down, until finally something or someone was at her side and helped her stay on her feet.

“I think it would be best that she lie down, Commander.” The soothing voice seemed to echo now.

“Agreed. I trust you’ll keep an eye on her, Mister Garak?” The deeper voice was farther and farther away.

“Of course, Commander.” The soothing voice again.

A hissing noise and then a grey blur invaded her field of vision.

“Amira?” Now that the deeper voice was gone, the soothing voice sounded more concerned. She felt a light pat on her cheek.

“Julian,” she whispered, and it echoed loudly in her ears.

“I know,” the soothing voice murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“No…” She shook her head again and this time the motion seemed to make the echoing and the blurriness worse. Her knees buckled beneath her and the last thing she saw was the ground swirling at her before she blacked out.

///

A few times over the next several hours, Amira awoke briefly.

The first time she was only aware of the quiet hum of the station and the even breathing of someone else in her room. _Garak_ , she knew at once, _because Julian is dead_. That mere realization sent her spiraling back into a panic, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes – closed still because if she opened them then everything would be real and if they remained shut then it was all a dream.

It was the loss of control over her own breathing that alerted Garak to her plight and before she could get very far, he had climbed onto her bed and pulled her up from her fetal position and into his lap. It was a rare show of intimacy and empathy for him, but in that moment he acted purely on an instinct he was unaware he had.

He must have figured out by then how calming she found his voice because he began speaking to her, a low, quiet sound that resonating through her sternum. Her breathing steadied and evened out.

At some point he began to sing to her softly in Cardassian and she fell asleep in his lap, his arms cradling her.

The second time, Amira opened her eyes. She was still resting against Garak, though he had changed his position at some point so that he was leaning against the back of her bed, her pillows propped behind his lower back to offer at least some minimal support. Instead of sitting on his lap, Amira was now situated between his legs, both of which were fully extended and relaxed. His arms were limp, hands resting atop his thighs on either side of her.

She shifted slightly and looked up at the Cardassian. His eyes were closed.

Moving as little as possible, Amira scooted off the end of the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. After relieving and refreshing herself, she reentered her bedroom and found Garak waiting for her, eyes open. Wordlessly, he shifted over so that there was room next to him on her bed and patted the open space. Although it was somewhat ironic that Garak was inviting her back to her own bed, she accepted the invitation without delay and quickly fell back asleep, her head resting against Garak’s shoulder.

When Amira opened her eyes the next time, her entire position had changed. She distinctly remembered falling asleep sitting up next to Garak. Now, however, she was horizontal and on her side. And was that…? An arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her securely against the warm body behind her.

She lay there for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to move the arm, awkwardly wait for Garak to move it himself, or do nothing and try to sleep more. It was an awfully intimate position for two people to share…but Amira found that she did not mind it. In fact…she found it pleasing – reassuring, even.

“Are you trying to think of a nice way to tell me to keep my hands to myself, or is something else causing you to think so loudly?” Garak’s voice startled her enough so that he felt her flinch slightly.

Assured that the Cardassian behind her was very much awake, Amira felt no qualms about turning onto her other side so that she was facing him. Anything she had planned to say fled her mind when she saw how intently he was watching her. It was enough to make her nervous about looking him in the eye for too long.

Due to her shifting gaze and lack of speech, Garak was starting to wonder if Amira _had_ been trying to think of a nice way to get him to remove his arm.

“I’m fine,” she said, finally. He looked at her skeptically. “I promise. I’m just…” she trailed off, searching for the right word. “…restless.” Her stomach growled and she looked up at him self-consciously, cheeks pink. “And hungry, I guess.”

He still didn’t believe her, but at least hunger was a problem that was easily solved.

“Would you like to go to the replimat?” he asked, uncertain of her culinary preferences. He could understand that she might desire to stay away from the general populace of the station and anyone who might go out of their way to offer her their condolences, but he could also guess that she might not feel up to preparing her own meal. And goodness knew that he certainly wasn’t capable enough to prepare anything edible for her; there was a reason his current occupation was tailor and not chef or restaurateur.  

“Actually, I think I’d like to go to Quark’s,” she admitted quietly. For strong drink and a quiet corner, she added internally. “But only for a little while.”

Nodding his consent, Garak accompanied Amira to the Ferengi’s bar. Quark seemed to know that they needed privacy and quiet and seated them in the farthest, darkest corner of the bar. It was mid-shift, so the bar was mostly empty, aside from a few regulars and servers.

Amira was immediately distracted by the bustling Promenade, which seemed to be carrying on its merry way without even noting the absence of two Starfleet officers. Garak ordered for them both.

The meal was quiet, short, and uneventful. Amira picked at her food silently, only meeting Garak’s questioning gaze a few times before she quietly asked if he would walk her back to her quarters. Garak offered her his arm and led her to her home. To both of their surprise, there was a woman waiting outside of Amira’s quarters.

Their pace slowed as they came closer, mostly due to Garak’s own wariness, but when the woman turned to face them, he physically relaxed.

“Mrs. O’Brien,” he greeted somberly.

The woman, dark-haired and oval-eyed, was human and appeared to be of Asian heritage. Although Garak’s presence with Amira seemed to surprise her, she quickly put any hesitance aside and drew herself to her full height as she addressed them.

“Keiko O’Brien,” she introduced. “My husband was with Doctor Bashir when…”

Amira nodded in a shakily. She felt a steadying hand on her back and knew without looking that Garak’s gaze was again trained on her.

“I came to tell you myself,” Keiko continued. “The video is a lie; it’s been tampered with.”

“Beg pardon, but _what_ video?” Garak inquired.

“The one that Commander Sisko was sent concerning the accident. It’s been changed.”

“What are you saying?” Amira asked, though her voice was so quiet that it came out as more of a hush, a whisper. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears again and she felt short of breath.

“They’re still alive!” Keiko exclaimed happily. “Commander Sisko sent word ahead – he and Lieutenant Dax are on their way back to the station with Miles and Doctor Bashir right now!”

Garak had little time to react to the news; next to him, Amira’s knees buckled and she fainted again.

///

“You were supposed to break it to her _gently_ , Mrs. O’Brien,” the commanding voice of Benjamin Sisko chastised.

“I thought I _was_ being gentle, Commander,” Keiko assured him.

“She _was_ ,” Garak suddenly interrupted. “Amira has been under great strain in the last forty-eight hours. It is not due to any of Mrs. O’Brien’s actions or words that this happened.”

“Is that your _professional_ opinion, Mr. Garak?” Sisko asked, his tone biting. Both men knew the question was double-edged.

“If it helps at all,” Julian offered, “as her next of kin, I, for one, am not worried in the least about her reaction.”

Sisko looked between the current occupants of the infirmary and huffed. The whole mission had been a mess. The past two days had been an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved. And to top it all off, they were now down one runabout. Someone was going to pay, but, as he reminded himself, no one on the station was responsible for anything that had happened – least of all Keiko O’Brien or Amira Bashir.

“My apologies, Mrs. O’Brien,” Sisko murmured quietly. He rolled his shoulders and one of them popped. Sighing in satisfaction, he drew himself to his full height and looked toward the exit of the infirmary with renewed purpose. “I have a full report to file with Starfleet Command. The Telani owe us a new runabout.”

Not long after he left, Garak and Julian left Keiko and Miles in one of the infirmary rooms while they returned to the front to check on Amira. She was resting peacefully on one of the examination chairs.

“Well,” Julian murmured, reaching for an injector that would rouse his sister. “Shall we wake the beast?”

“Doctor!” Garak admonished, his tone teasing, “I’m going to tell her you called her that.”

“Go right ahead,” Julian taunted. He pressed the injector to Amira’s neck.

Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply, as one does when waking up after a good night’s rest or a long nap. She blinked slowly and then, upon seeing Julian, leapt up and flung her arms around his neck.

“Jules!” she exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

Although he was caught off-guard by the sudden extra weight, his instincts kicked in and his arms wrapped around her in a bear-like embrace. When she pulled away, she looked uncertain.

“Are you going to tell me that the last forty-eight hours have been an incredibly long nightmare and I’ve actually been in the infirmary the whole time?” she asked hopefully.

“No, but I _will_ tell you that I was nowhere near death at any given point during that time period.”

“Which is more than Chief O’Brien can say,” Garak put in helpfully.

As worry slipped into her expression, Julian sent an annoyed glance at the Cardassian. “The Chief is fine; he was briefly infected with a virus, but he’s fine now.”

“That’s a relief,” Amira murmured. She paused, and then promptly swatted her brother on the arm.

“Amira! What was that for?”

“Never do that again!” she scolded.

“I don’t plan to!” Julian exclaimed, dodging another swat.

“Wait ‘til she finds out that you call her ‘Beast’ when she’s not around,” Garak muttered, purposely saying it loudly enough for Amira to hear.

“ _Julian Alexander Bashir_!”


	8. Profit and Loss

Profit and Loss

For the first week after Julian’s near death, Amira hardly let him out of her sight. She brought him afternoon tea, met him for lunch, insisted that he come by for dinner, and checked on him at least twice in between every meal via a communicator that Julian had given her.

The nights were the worst for both of them. Several nights in a row, Amira awoke alone in her quarters, tears streaming down her cheeks and a cold sweat enveloping her form. In the darkness she would fumble for her communicator. On the other side of the habitat ring, where the Bajoran and Starfleet officers were housed, Julian would be awoken from the deepest part of his sleep cycle and groggily answer the panic-stricken inquiries of his younger sibling.

Enough time passed that Amira’s nightmares ceased and she was finally able to go longer periods of time without checking on her brother. As several others had assured her many times, her brother was fully capable of taking care of himself, thanks to his Starfleet training, and was very unlikely to find danger aboard the mostly peaceful station.

She did not forget the immense assistance and emotional support that Garak had offered when Julian’s death was initially reported. She remembered how his strong arms had gripped her when she fell, how he’d carried her to bed and watched over her. She thought about his smooth voice, the way he expressed himself, his laugh, his smile, and especially the way his eyes glittered when he was teasing her. It did not take Amira long to realize she was developing a crush, or perhaps something more, and the thought of Garak finding out made her anxious and panicky.

Amira found herself spending more time with Garak and her brother together, but shied away from any one-on-one time. Looking the Cardassian in the eye for too long made her nervous, as if he’d be able to sense her innermost thoughts just from eye contact. When he wasn’t looking, her eyes roved over his impeccable attire and smooth hair. She wondered about the ridges on his face and neck – did they cover all his body? And his lips – were they as smooth as his voice was?

On one such occasion, Amira allowed herself to daydream as her brother and Garak discussed some political decision made by a general of some alien military. Staring off into space, she hardly heard their conversation – or any noise in Quark’s – while she daydreamed.

Julian was so caught up in the debate with the Cardassian that he paid little attention to his silent sister, even as one of the Ferengi waiters brought them their drinks. The doctor missed the way Garak’s gaze subtly flickered over to Amira every minute or so, inquisitive about her disinterest in the conversation.

When her brother got up to ask for the check, Garak took his opportunity to get Amira’s attention.

“You’ve been very quiet this evening,” he said, a little louder than she expected.

“Hmm? Oh, I – sorry, I’m a little tired.”

“Not sleeping well?”

“No, I slept fine, why?”

“Because you’ve been ‘a little tired’ for the last week, my dear,” he observed. Her gaze slipped from his as his eyes bored into her. It was like he could see into her head, and that made Amira incredibly nervous. “If it’s not a lack of sleep, then what is it?”

Before she could answer, Julian returned to the table and announced that the bill had been taken care of. Garak inwardly cursed the doctor’s inopportune timing, but knew there would be other chances to ascertain why Amira was so distracted lately. As the trio went down the spiral staircase toward the exit, Garak paused abruptly, causing Amira to nearly walk right into him. She steadied herself, hands pressed against his back for a split second before she realized the contact and removed her hands.

Leaning around Garak, she saw what had caused him to stop short: a Cardassian woman in a white dress was sitting with Quark in a corner of the lower part of his establishment. Glancing between the woman and Garak, Amira was startled by a surge of jealousy.

 _Where did that come from?_ She wondered as they left Quark’s. Looking back at the Cardassian woman, Amira took in the low cut of the dress and the elegant way she wore her hair. Amira’s dress was modest and not revealing in the least. Her hair was often twisted into a messy bun. Amira felt more than ever that her crush on Garak was and always would be one-sided. After all, she was human and he was a Cardassian. What hope did she have?

~*~

When Gul Toran came aboard the station, Garak had not expected him to come to his shop. It was clear that Toran was still bitter and angry over their past dealings. Garak put up his best front and tried to appear as nonchalant and settled as he possibly could, given the Gul’s overbearing and rather antagonizing aura. He wanted as little to do with the man as possible.

And then he mentioned the possibility of an end to Garak’s exile. The tailor stilled. As he listened to the details of what the Cardassian Central Command required in exchange. Neither Cardassian heard the sound of the door opening behind them. It wasn’t until Toran was already turning to leave that he saw the petite human standing wide-eyed by the open door.

With a growl, he seized her violently by the arm and, making sure to shut and lock the door behind him, hauled her toward Garak, who by then had turned to see what the commotion was. Toran shoved the human forward so roughly that she stumbled to her knees and stayed there.

“A human spy!” Toran spat. “Did you tell her to come?”

“Toran, I hardly knew you’d be paying me a visit today; how could I tell her to be here at this exact time?” Garak pointed out. “Look at her dress; she’s clearly a customer.”

“Spy or not, she might’ve heard us,” Toran muttered. He grabbed a fistful of Amira’s dark hair and yanked her head backward so hard that she cried out. “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing, I swear!” she gasped.

“Lies!” Toran hissed. He flung her back to the ground and pulled a knife from his boot. Angling it toward the hollow of her throat, he repeated his question. “What did you hear?”

“O-only something a-about tai-tailors,” she stuttered frantically. “I swear!”

Toran seemed unconvinced, but could do little else to prove his suspicions. Garak finally felt that he could step in again.

“Toran, we will be in contact. Meanwhile, perhaps it would be wise for you to return to your ship while I…make _certain_ this young woman knows how to keep a secret.” His tone sounded more sinister and dangerous than ever; Amira felt herself wondering who had kidnapped the real Garak and was here impersonating him now.

The Gul seemed satisfied with Garak’s assurances, however, and left the shop. Once he was gone, Garak finally allowed himself to look at Amira. Her hair was disheveled and harried, and she was still exactly where the Gul had left her, eyes wide with shock.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, finally looking up at him. “I didn’t know—”

“Hush,” he commanded, but gently. “Of course you didn’t know. _I_ didn’t know.” He paused, considering their options. “Are you alright?”

Her hand traced the hollow of her neck and came away bloodless. “I’m fine.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Just something about not being a tailor for the rest of your life,” Amira told him. “Why? Was he threatening you?”

“Ha! Threatening me? _Him_?” Garak felt himself relax; her question revealed that she had in fact heard little of the conversation. “My dear, it takes more than a Gul to threaten _me_.”

Amira didn’t look entirely convinced. “Are you sure?” she asked. “He seemed very upset that I’d even seen the two of you together.”

“Of course he did! He can’t be seen with me – the exile of Cardassia,” Garak explained bitterly. His gaze softened as his gaze fell to her neck. “ _You’re_ the one who had a knife to her throat.”

A faint blush spread over her cheeks. “I’m fine, Garak.”

“It would reassure me greatly if you sought out your brother and allowed him to examine you.” At her visible display of reluctance, he reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I have some business to finish before the day ends and then perhaps we three can have dinner at Quark’s?”

Amira sighed. “Fine. But you have to pay.”

Garak laughed again. “Of course, my dear. It wouldn’t be a bribe if I didn’t.” 

///

Some hours later, Garak found Amira and her brother at a table for three in Quark’s. The Cardassian made eye contact with the Ferengi from across the bar and nodded to him. Quark, a knowing look in his eye, nodded back. Garak made his way to the table, where both Julian and Amira were watching him curiously.

“What was that about?” the doctor inquired.

“Oh, nothing important. Quark and I merely exchanged clientele earlier this evening,” Garak told them.

They both shrugged it off, believing him.

“I’m completely _fine_ , by the way,” Amira muttered good-naturedly. “Julian said so himself.”

“Still, it was a good idea to send her my way,” Julian murmured, his brow furrowing. His gaze shifted from Amira to Garak. “What exactly happened?” he asked. “Amira mentioned something about a disagreement of some kind?”

“Ah, yes, most unfortunate. I had a rather belligerent customer earlier who frightened Amira a good deal. I thought it best to send her to you to be safe.”

“I’m glad you did,” Julian murmured. Turning to the menu, he sighed, pleased. “We’re very lucky that you’re such a good friend, Garak.”

Amira, meanwhile was blushing away behind her menu, and trying very much not to look at either Julian or Garak. The Cardassian smiled as he, too, turned his attention to the menu. _Very lucky, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt if you want. I dunno. I'm just bored and my current muse is Amira/Garak.


End file.
